Resolution on the 14th of February
by Millia
Summary: Lily is avoiding James, James is getting desperate, Sirius is . . . well, who knows.


**Resolution on the 14th of February**

by **Millia**

**Summary: **Lily is avoiding James, James is getting desperate, Sirius is . . . well, who knows.

* * *

James sighed as he watched Lily laugh with Remus at dinner in the Great Hall. Had their date last Hosmeade weekend been another one of his delusions? Because if so, he was surprised at his lack of imagination and perfectly gentleman-like behaviour. And her fully-clothed appearance.

The depressing buzz of Hogwarts students enjoying themselves was like an annoying fly trapped in his house, buzzing incessantly around his ears. He tried to tune it out, glumly pushing his peas around his plate, but it was hard when Sirius, who was sitting right next to him, made up the majority of the noise.

Granted, it wasn't actually a _date_, to be technical. He had simply run into her (after years of making it a habit to try and "accidently" run into her, it had become so engrained into him that he did it without noticing) at the Three Broomsticks, and she had agreed to let him buy her a butterbeer. That had to mean something. Although—she had said, "This is only because I'm broke," but he was sure she was lying. Sort of. At least she didn't roll her eyes and walk away like she would have a year ago.

He frowned. Lily seemed to be determinedly avoiding his gaze, despite the fact that she was sitting diagonally from him and talking with his mate. In fact, he realized, she had been steadily avoiding him since Hogsmeade, even arriving late at meetings so as to avoid being in the room with him—what had he done this time? He was sure his manners had been impeccable.

He was going to do something for Valentine's this year, he decided. He was running out of time, and she was finally driving him crazy after all these years. Sirius maintained that he'd gone insane long before—why else subject himself to such masochistic torture?—but James was getting desperate; it was getting harder and harder to not show dismay every time she turned him down, though he had made a point of not asking her out quite as much this year (per Remus' advice).

_If she doesn't show any sign of affection towards me by the end of Valentine's Day, I swear I'm giving up,_ he thought, ignoring the feeling that he probably wouldn't. He'd made a similar pledge to himself earlier this year concerning her feelings changing due to his Head Boy badge, and while they seemed to have achieved some sort of neutrally friendly ground, she still seemed determined not to sway in her rejections.

* * *

James hated Valentine's Day, he honestly did. Only a truly twisted society had a heart pierced with an arrow as its sign of love. And Lily was _still_ avoiding him, and he had less than a week until that cursed holiday.

"What are you doing, Prongs?" Sirius asked, coming up to the dorm to grab a book he needed.

"Thinking," he grunted without moving from his position on the bed—arms spread out, head dangling over the edge, glasses askew.

"About what? Oh wait, let me guess—Evans again?"

James swung himself up and righted his glasses. "Any ideas?"

"Nope."

"Thanks."

Sirius shrugged. "Valentine's Day is overrated, anyway. Girls just get more emotional than usual and expect romance and flowers. If you did it right one day of the year, you'd think they'd leave you alone for the other 364 days. But no, apparently, you have to keep it going. So what's the point of this one day if they want all the other days to be like it, too?"

James tuned Sirius out halfway through his monologue, trying to pursue his own train of thought. Unfortunately, it seemed to have derailed between prepositions.

"What if I take her out to dinner, then?"

"I s'pose it'd work."

"Maybe I shouldn't try to make any fancy plans, I mean, Lily's not really the romantic type, right? How do I tell her what I want? Surely I can melt her heart if I can just be alone with her." He paused. "I've never _actually_ been alone with her, have I; there's always someone around to see my humiliation."

"Yeah, and the first time she agrees to sit with you is in the crowded Broomsticks."

James smiled—so it hadn't been his imagination.

* * *

Lily went around the corner so quickly that she collided with a rather soft statue, dropping books and quills everywhere and sitting painfully hard on the cold stone floor.

"Umph!"

"Watch where you're going, Evans, people might get the wrong idea if they saw you careening desperately into my arms in a deserted corridor. What's the hurry?"

She looked up and frowned. It was Sirius. Great.

"Don't flatter yourself, Black. I was just heading to the library to grab something before curfew," she said smoothly, gathering her scattered books together. Thank Merlin her ink didn't break and spill everywhere. That Charms essay had taken her hours.

To her surprise, Sirius crouched down beside her and handed her her books.

"Thanks," she mumbled, standing up hastily.

"So, whom are you avoiding? Dare I say that if I look around this corner, I'll see James going through the portrait? Don't look so startled, Evans, I'm smarter than that, though you're a surprisingly good liar. But if you were in such a hurry to get the library, this is the last way you would go, as it adds ten minutes."

She flushed slightly, before admonishing herself for letting Sirius get to her. "It's none of your business, Black," she said, gathering herself in an attempt to look taller. "Sorry I ran into you." But before she could muster a slightly dignified exit, Sirius grabbed her arm.

"Any plans for Valentine's? Just a few days away, you know."

"I'm not your type, Black," she said, smiling tightly and trying to tug her arm away. Merlin, he was strong!

He laughed. "No, but James is killing himself right now, and I hate having a lovesick mate—it takes away all the fun in taking the mickey out on him when I actually pity the bloke."

Lily tried hard not to smile again—was he really that lovesick?—before shaking herself; she wouldn't have cared a year ago, and she was determined to not care now. "Well, thanks for the _fascinating_ information, Black. If I ever care, I'll be sure to let you know"

She finally succeeded in prying his fingers loose from his arm, but was nettled nonetheless because she knew that had he really not wanted to let go, there would have been nothing she could do about it. _Maybe I should start working out, then I can go around hitting fellows like Black who're too smug for their own good. And stupid Gryffindor chasers who are unbearably charming_.

"Evans," and she stopped again at the sound of his voice which was suddenly grave. "Why've you been avoiding him for the past week?"

"Avoiding him? Me?" she bit her lip, unable to continue an indifferent façade when his gray eyes were piercing right through her. "Um… I have to go."

_Pathetic_, she thought as she hurried away as fast as she could go without running. _You're pathetic, Evans_.

* * *

_"This is just because I'm broke, so don't get the wrong idea," she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Besides, there's nowhere else to sit in here."_

_James refrained from pointing out that her friends had saved her a seat and waved to her when she first entered, figuring that she wouldn't appreciate the remark._

_"So, a Butterbeer, then?"_

_She shrugged. "Sure."_

_A beautiful warmth had settled in James' stomach, dislodging the cold that had come with the dismal winter weather, taking it by the scruff of its slimy, icy neck and shaking it around before throwing it far off into the distance, far away from Lily Evans, whose shoulder was pressed to James' (!) so that they could hear each other over the noise of the crowded pub. Even the tips of his ears were toasty warm, the cold there having been chased off by her fiery red hair tickling him when she had sat down, sending a shiver down his back that had nothing to do with the February weather._

_"… Quidditch Cup?" Lily's voice interrupted his musings on the brutally wonderful ways in which her presence was killing the cold and warming him inside-out; he refocused on her bright green eyes, which were peering at him intently, eyebrows slightly raised, lips pursed in amusement._

_"Huh?"_

_Lily smiled slightly. "Fancy James Potter tuning out a question on Quidditch!" she admonished lightly, and James found himself smiling easily, not at all uncomfortable. "I was wondering what Gryffindor's chances are for the Cup?"_

_James immediately told her in great detail, not occurring to him until ten minutes later that she might not find the strategies of the Slytherins' new Chaser techniques quite as fascinating as did he—at which point he sputtered to a stop and, flushing, asked if this were boring her._

_"No," she said, smiling at him, then at her empty bottle of Butterbeer that she held between her small hands. "You're not boring me, James."_

* * *

Valentine's Day dawned bright and cheery, the sun glinting across acres of snow like a smug bastard in love, flaunting his joy in front of all the miserable single fools of the world. James refused to face Life and instead curled up under his blankets, content in his cocoon of misery.

"You'll miss breakfast, Prongs," Peter said. "C'mon, we're starving."

James grunted and pulled the blankets higher; death by starvation hadn't been his plan—he'd always wanted something a bit more grand and preferably with as many explosions as possible—but it would do.

"Oh, you're pathetic," Sirius said, and they went down to the Great Hall.

Finally free of his stifling friends, James kicked back the covers slightly and stared up at his bed hanging intently, examining with sudden intensity the cloth and embroidery. They were beautifully made, with thick scarlet cloth and gold threaded through so finely that James wondered how somehow had accomplished it even with magic. Who had put so much effort in bed hangings, when it had taken James seven years to actually notice?

A sudden noise interrupted James' ponderings on the finer type of bed hangings; it sounded like footsteps. Groaning, James pulled a pillow over his head, not wanting to face his friends again—he preferred to die of a broken heart alone.

"Go 'way, Padfoot, or I'll probably kill you," he said after the door opened.

"I resent being confused with Black," a prim voice said, causing James heart to stop beating for all of three seconds.

Then he sat up so fast he was dizzy, grabbing his glasses to make sure he wasn't hearing things again.

"Li—Lily! What, erm… what're you doing here?"

She didn't answer, instead peering around interestedly at the dormitory, in all its messy glory. Clothes lay scattered about, beds unmade, parchment and quills dispersed throughout the room.

Avoiding his gaze, she plucked at the hangings on Remus' bed and nudged a pile of books with her toe, musing aloud, "I've never been in a boys' dormitory before."

James couldn't say how happy he was to hear that, though he knew she was simply evading his query.

She turned her green eyes on him, and he was suddenly aware that he wasn't wearing a shirt. She seemed to realize it at the same time, because she blushed brightly and turned away.

"Sorry, er… I thought you'd be dressed. Do you always lie around in bed at this hour?" her voice sounded slightly higher and not as cool as before, which made James grin.

James pulled on a shirt that didn't look too dirty and got out of bed. He walked towards her, but she seemed to be doing everything in her power to nonchalantly keep away from him, though she never did anything more than stroll around. After casually pursuing her across the dormitory three times, James finally gave up and, throwing up his hands, shouted:

"Well? _What_ do you want?"

Lily turned, surprised. "Er… Happy Valentine's Day?"

James blinked. Whatever he had expected, it hadn't been that. He thought she might be up here because she wanted to discuss the finer points of prefect patrols or holiday decorations.

"Right. Yeah, you too…" He was suddenly aware that the awful card he had made for her—complete with flashing hearts and a poem, which he had eventually trashed—might have been a better offering than his feeble reply.

They trailed off into an awkward silence, complete with scuffing shoes on carpets and the like.

"So why've you been avoiding me, then? Just enjoy torturing a bloke?" he asked suddenly, wishing his voice sounded manly and tough, and not so bitter and hurt.

Lily blushed again and looked decidedly uncomfortable. She took several minutes to answer, opening her mouth repeatedly and shutting it as if changing her mind every single time as to what to say to the increasingly desperate James. "Look, James… I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea, but… well, it _was_ just a drink on a crowded Hogsmeade weekend, and there was hardly any room in the Broomsticks, so it made sense to sit next to you, and well… I guess it was sorta fun, but… I didn't mean to lead you on, okay?"

"Oh. Right."

What did a bloke need with a heart, anyway? Useless things, really. Dreadfully hard to keep up with, and always causing trouble.

Lily chewed on her lip, looking at him beseechingly. "I'm sorry…"

"No, it's alright," James said, shrugging, all too-aware that his attempt at sounding nonchalant just sounded feeble. "A guy gets used to rejection, misery, and the like. I'll be fine."

Lily honestly looked like she was about to cry. She opened her mouth as if to say something, decided against, and abruptly turned on her heel and left.

James collapsed on his bed, vowing to do all in his power to destroy the holiday of Valentine's Day, whatever the means. Every stupid cherub and cupid would go; all frills and laces, all hearts with arrows, and all reminders of his pathetic love life.

* * *

Lily stopped at the bottom of the boys' staircase, heart pounding.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she muttered to herself.

"I'll say," a dreaded, familiar voice said. "If anyone else were to see you coming from the boys' seventh year dormitory, vicious rumours could begin spreading about dear Lily Evans."

"Black," she said, slightly desperate. "For once in your life, shut up. Please."

He smirked at her. "I just came back for an essay," he said innocently.

Lily wanted to dart past, but he was blocking her path.

"What did you want with James, then?" he said, and Lily was again startled by how quickly his tone changed, and his grinning face became dead intent on her pale one.

"Just, er… Head Student stuff, you wouldn't be interested."

"Wouldn't I? Some Gryffindor you are, Lily. Are you really that scared to just tell James you fancy him?"

"I—I… _what_ are you talking about?" she spluttered, face flaming. Since when was Sirius so perceptive, damn him!

"That's why you've been avoiding him, right? Can't bear to face him because he's actually a decent bloke, much to your great disappointment."

Lily let out another strangled, half-hearted protest, but Sirius simply rolled his eyes.

"Give it up, Lily. Maybe you think you're hiding something, but trust me—James is the only one who doesn't know you're just as crazy about him as he is about you. Why don't you go up there and tell him, like he's been telling you for the past Merlin-only-knows-how-many years!"

And with that, Sirius spun around and left, muttering about getting a detention for missing essays because he was such a good friend.

Cursing herself and Sirius repeatedly, she turned around and walked back up the stairs with leaden feet, intent on forcing herself to tell James what she had been planning to tell him in the first place, before her nonexistent courage had fled her.

James was fully clothed this time, was the first thing that Lily noticed, immediately blushing at the thought. His back was to her, and he was idly picking at the window sill and staring off into the distance like a brooding hero on the cover of a cheesy romance novel.

"James," she said, though because of her nervousness it came out more as a croak than the dignified voice she had been counting on.

He spun around, and his eyes widened when he saw her standing there, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

Before he could begin saying anything, she began blurting out, somewhat desperately, "Okay, I lied to you a bit… a lot," she muttered, unable to look at him and instead focusing on her highly interesting shoelaces, pink for the holiday occasion. "I had a great time at Hogsmeade, Merlin forgive me; I wish it had been miserable, that you had been awful, but this whole year you've been nothing but… well, I won't say perfect, but definitely…" she laughed. "I don't think there are adjectives to describe you, James Potter. And I hate myself so much for _liking_ you, that I've been trying to avoid you ever since I realized it after something so simple as sitting with you in an overly-crowded pub talking about nothing, really, except whatever came. And I could never bear it if people ever became aware that I actually _like_ your stupid hair and your stupid glasses and your stupid Quidditch skills, or the fact that you're actually rather smart despite being lazy and. . . . I never hated you, James. I thought you were an immature prat, yes; but I never hated you." She finally summoned her courage to look up, only to see James goggling at her. She laughed slightly, but with nothing much behind it. "So that's what I came up here to tell you." She swallowed hard, and she was suddenly, horribly aware of how James must have felt every time he had ever asked her out. She had never known how naked one felt. _Well, karma strikes_. "Well? Don't you have anything to say?"

Lily was sure her face was on fire. _James Potter_ was speechless, and she was sure that wasn't a good sign—had he finally given up on her? Had he changed his mind; was he finally sick of her?

A sound from James made all of her thoughts come to a screeching halt—was he… was he _laughing_?

"You're laughing at me!" she cried out, mortified to see the boy to whom she had just confessed her heart bent over double, holding his ribs, and laughing. "Oh God," she muttered, and tried to make an exit with the last of her dignity.

"Lily! Wait, don't leave, please," James' voice rang out, stopping her with her hand on the doorknob. "I'm sorry, it's just… I've been torturing myself for the past two weeks trying to think of something I could say to you today, on Valentine's, to woo you or something, and I…" he had stopped laughing, but was staring at her with a foolish grin on his face—one that, Lily realized suddenly, she was returning hesitantly.

"You know I'm crazy about you," he said.

"You're not so bad yourself, Potter," she replied.

* * *

A/N: I actually sort of started this for 2005 PhoenixSong's Valentine's Day Challenge, and just got around to finishing it about . . . five months later. And just decided to post it, despite it being very unseasonal at the moment. I may delete it when I reread it and realize it desperately needs a rewrite before being fit for critique/reading. 


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